


Of Puns and Mistletoes

by lolamit



Category: The Book of Mormon - Ambiguous Fandom, The Book of Mormon - Parker/Stone/Lopez
Genre: (also yes this is pizzaverse in case the awful sense of humor didn't make that obvious enough), 12daysofBOM, Christmas, Euphemisms, Fluff, Innuendo, Just terrible fucking puns man, M/M, Mistletoe, connor can't flirt, i did not proofread this can you tell, idk what to tell you, it's 4:30am what am i doing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:48:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28082679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lolamit/pseuds/lolamit
Summary: Day 1 of  12 Days of BOM. I might have taken the slight liberty of changing the prompt just atinybit."Is that supposed to be mistletoe?"
Relationships: Elder "Connor" McKinley/Kevin Price
Comments: 10
Kudos: 15
Collections: 12 Days of Book of Mormon (2020)





	Of Puns and Mistletoes

It was snowing — good lord, was it snowing. Crystal flakes landed on his eyelashes as he pushed through the biting wind. He was late, because of course he was. Kevin would be furious. Actually, no. Kevin would give him a pointed glare, ignore him for about fifteen minutes, and then offer some snide comment that Connor should invest in a watch or at the very least check his phone every once in a while. 

He knew he should, knew it shouldn’t be this hard to be on time, but he just… couldn’t be bothered, to be perfectly honest. What difference did five minutes make, anyway? It wasn’t as though they didn’t have time. Connor felt like they had nothing _but_ time, and he didn’t mind that fact at all. He wasn’t as restless around Kevin, didn’t need to fidget or sweat the small stuff. There was someone to come home to every day, even though they usually drove back together, and there was someone to hold at night, someone holding him too, and someone to wake up to, every morning. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he was surprised to see Kevin’s name lighting up the screen. He never texted when Connor was late ( _it wouldn’t get you moving any faster anyway_ ), so to see him check in like this felt suspicious. Or sweet, maybe. Connor wasn’t sure because Kevin texted like a boomer who couldn’t work out how to access the emojis. 

_You here soon?_

He was just around the corner of 17th and 5th, so he didn’t bother with a response. While he had the phone in his hand, he couldn’t help but notice the five minutes he thought had passed were actually twenty, and the blizzard blowing up around him didn’t exactly help him get there sooner. The snow didn’t even stay on the ground but melted as soon as it landed on anything, turning the streets an even soggier gray mess than they already were. Connor wasn’t crazy about the holiday season, having spent a few years in retail, but he knew Kevin had a soft spot for all things tinsel and holly. And putting a smile on Kevin’s face was the only thing on his Christmas list this year.

Kevin had called it a waste of a wish, and Connor — catching the way Kevin’s lips quirked — had pointed out it was already working. 

He spotted the truck as he neared Union Square, nearly slipping on the wet concrete as he ran to make it across the road before the lights turned red. The serving window was closed, and Connor felt bad for halving their hour-long lunch by completely forgetting the time while setting up their apartment. But he had a plan, and he knew Kevin could forgive such a minor mistake once he saw the actual surprise. 

Before he made for the truck, he veered to the right, snapping a few branches of a still mostly green bush. They weren’t exactly mistletoe, but they would do. The door was closed as he reached it, and he gave it a few taps, holding the poor excuse of a bouquet in front of him with a smile.

Kevin opened without looking at him. So, maybe it would take a little more to make up for the delay. 

“Sorry I’m late,” he said, following Kevin inside and closing the door behind him. “I got you something.”

Kevin gave him a pointed glare, glancing down at Connor’s hands, and arched a brow in question. Connor raised the hand holding the twigs above his head, gave them a tiny wiggle, and beckoned Kevin with his free hand. 

“Is that supposed to be mistletoe?”

Connor hesitated before nodding. 

“Really?” Kevin asked, to which Connor made a _no duh_ gesture, which was really just a twitch in his shoulders and a half-assed eyeroll. “Because it looks like something you found on the ground.”

“There’s that accidental rhyming we all know and love.” Kevin didn’t laugh. “I forgot.”

Kevin rolled his eyes. “Forgot what?”

“To get real mistletoe, to be on time, to be a good boyfriend, yadda yadda yadda.” Connor threw the twigs in the trash, making a show of it to really drive it home.

“No one says ‘yadda yadda yadda’ out loud.” 

“Why are you being so cranky?”

“I’m _cranky_ because you brought me trash.” 

Connor groaned. “It’s not even Christmas, it’s December fourteenth, so technically, I’m nice for bringing anything at all.”

Kevin scoffed, another pointed glare aimed at Connor’s eyes, and he’d almost forgotten this was part of it. The plan. It was always amusing to watch Kevin eat his own words. This time would be no different, and he’d only have to play the part until they closed for the day. Five hours, that’s child’s play for an actor, thank you very much.

“Oh, I’m sorry, is a lunch date with my boyfriend asking too much?” Kevin said, taking a seat in one of the chairs. “Should I dial it back a notch? Act like I don’t care? Treat you like a piece of meat?”

Connor’s mouth curled into a smile, and he made sure to make it suggestive. “Well, if you’re gonna keep talking like that, you might just have to.”

Kevin rolled his eyes again, but Connor didn’t miss the twitch in his lips and made his way over, slowly. That was one of the things he loved most about their relationship, it only took one (and that’s barely) innuendo to set an entirely different mood between them. 

“You know,” Connor started, and Kevin didn’t argue when he placed himself on his lap. Or when he leaned closer. Or when he trailed his lips along Kevin’s jaw. “Just because I didn’t bring any actual mistletoe doesn’t mean we can’t…”

Kevin gripped his thighs, angling his head away. “We said no more sex in the truck.”

Connor leaned back again, meeting his eyes with a bored stare. “We also said no more fast food and we had McDonald's last night.”

Kevin smiled, but pushed Connor off him moments later, getting on his feet to make him a quick slice. “When do you have to be back at the theatre?”

“I have the rest of the day off,” Connor said, claiming Kevin’s chair. Little did he know, he hadn't been to rehearsal at all.

Kevin shot him a smirk. “So you’re actually gonna help out for once?”

“Oh, please, you love working alone. You always complain about my music when I’m here,” Connor said, watching Kevin work. It always soothed him in a way, the careful yet effortless way he worked the dough, the flick of his hand as he sprinkled on the cheese. Somehow, Kevin managed to be showy without even trying, the bastard.

“That’s because you play the same songs over and over,” Kevin said as he closed the oven. 

Connor cocked an eyebrow. “And you don’t?”

Kevin flashed a grin. “Well, I have good taste, so it doesn’t matter.”

“That’s debatable,” Connor said, holding back an eyeroll as he watched Kevin take his pizza out, tossing it on a paper plate and sliding it down the counter to where Connor was sitting. 

“You’re welcome,” Kevin said, with just enough emphasis to point out the lack of verbal gratitude coming in his direction. 

So, Connor matched the inflection in his voice to Kevin’s, and said, “Thank you,” in a way that earned him a middle finger. 

They worked for the rest of the day together. Connor changed the music from the Christmas hits Kevin was playing to a playlist of their Glee counterparts when he stepped out for a quick break, and the look on his face when he realized was priceless. 

“That’s not real music,” he’d said. 

“It is, you’re just too elitist to appreciate it,” Connor had replied, and that was that. Kevin let it play for a few more songs before he changed it back, sliding his phone in his back pocket as though that would keep it from Connor’s grasp. 

As the hours passed, it seemed like Kevin had forgotten about the fake mistletoe and the lateness, and as they closed up shop, he surprised Connor with a hug from behind and a kiss on his cheek. Christmas had that effect on Kevin, and Connor was in no rush to complain. 

Not long after, they made it back to Greenwich Village, and as soon as they got through the door, Connor made a beeline for the bedroom while Kevin wandered off into the kitchen. That was good, Connor still had a few layers to lose. He inspected the room briefly as he stepped inside, a ridiculous amount of tinsel and glitter decorating every surface available. He’d even gone to the effort of changing the lightbulb to a reddish one, for ambiance. 

As he removed his jacket and threw it on the floor, he glanced up at the mistletoe hung neatly above the bed, no ulterior motives at play _at all_. The rest of his clothes soon followed until nothing but his Christmas themed underwear remained. Very cheeky, if he could say so himself. 

“What’re you in the mood for?” Kevin called from the kitchen, and Connor refrained from calling _you’re about to find out_ back to him. “We have… literally nothing. How do you feel about takeout again? I know we said no fast food, but we don’t really have a choice.”

Connor didn’t answer, but took his place on the bed, trying to pose without looking awkward which was proving itself to be quite the task. Once he settled on a position — the classic paint-me-like-one-of-your-french-girls pose — he called, “Babe?”

“Yeah?” 

“Could you give me a hand in the bedroom real quick?” 

Kevin didn’t answer, and soon Connor heard steps approaching, rounding the corner and stopping dead on the doorstep, eyes wide and openmouthed. Connor only smirked, if there was one thing he liked more than making Kevin smile, it might possibly be making him look like _that_.

It took him a moment, but after a while, Kevin let out an airy laugh and said, “Oh my god, you’re an ass.”

Connor wiggled his hips. “Like it?” 

“You had this set up the whole time?” Kevin asked, eyes fixed on the mistletoe above the bed. Which was quite rude, considering Connor’s lack of clothing. “Then what the hell were the twigs for?”

“Oh, just my personal amusement.” 

Kevin shook his head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Well, to answer your question,” Connor said, drawing a circle on the sheets. “I’m in the mood for some Subway.” Kevin cocked an eyebrow. “You know, something half Italian.” Then rolled his eyes. “Six inches.” 

“Wow,” he said, biting back a laugh. “That’s generous.”

Connor continued. “I might go for a classic BLT.”

Kevin watched him for a moment, his eyes narrowed. “I know you’re gonna make up some crass name, so just get to—"

“A bomb-ass looking tush.” 

Kevin stared, and Connor expected a scoff or a snarky comment, but was pleasantly surprised when Kevin wrinkled his nose and said, “How did that turn me on?” He leaned against the doorframe with his brows slightly knitted together, as though actually bothered. “I mean, what kind of spell do you have me under where a _bread euphemism_ —”

“Just get over here already,” Connor cut him off with a groan as he abandoned the pose, lying flat on his back and closing his eyes, defeated. “You can reconsider your life choices tomorrow and get me a meat-free Spicy Italian with extra cheese tonight.”

A silence fell once he’d spoken, and for a moment he thought Kevin had actually left, but then he felt the mattress shifting and a familiar weight above him. Kevin laced their fingers together, holding them in place on either side of Connor’s head, and he opened his eyes to find a smug look staring back at him.

“What?” he asked, slightly jutting his chin upward, a silent invitation. 

“Why go through all this trouble,” Kevin said, “when all you had to do was hold some mistletoe over my head?” 

Connor rolled his eyes. “So much for romance.”

“I hate to burst your bubble, babe, but seducing me through a Subway menu is not romantic.” He paused; his eyes flicked down before meeting Connor’s again. “I mean, it worked, but it’s not romantic.”

He might’ve had a point, but Connor couldn’t bother to care. He got what he wanted, and so what if it took some beating around the bush, Connor knew he liked the attention. Big to-dos and grand gestures. In Connor’s book, that meant stupid innuendos and a suggestively placed mistletoe. 

“Besides,” Kevin continued when Connor didn’t answer. “If this is what you got me for December fourteenth, imagine what I’ll expect on the twenty-fifth.” 

Connor’s lips quirked. “Who knows, maybe you’ll find a neatly wrapped package with your name on under the tree.”

Kevin rolled his eyes, groaning out a, “Shut up,” before effectively doing so himself by finally — _finally_ — pressing their lips together. Connor melted at the way Kevin laughed into his mouth, the way he couldn’t keep a straight face to save his life. Perhaps it would’ve been easier, putting the mistletoe over the door or simply holding it up as Kevin suggested, but the high risk, high reward of going all out was second nature to Connor, and Kevin too, though he’d never admit it. 

Not that it mattered right now. All that did was Kevin laughing into the crook of his neck, his breath hot and his teeth cool. Connor could get used to the latest addition to their bedroom, they always complained about not having enough plants anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a train wreck. Merry Christmas.


End file.
